Fault
by selenicsoulmates
Summary: "Korra was never told how much guilt the Avatar was burdened with." Book 3 headcanon. Makorra, if you squint.


**So on my tumblr, I made a headcanon awhile back and I guess you can't really have a headcanon without making a story about it. So here it is. Maybe you'll like it cus I _really _want this to happen but it probably won't.**

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By the time she catches a glimpse of anything but him, it's nearly dusk.

The room is radiant in an orange-like hue that almost feels warm and comforting. Korra wishes it could be, and that she could soak in the last bits of sunlight the earth has to offer before the moon patches its way into a sad sky full of glistening, dead stars (and she loved the moon, she did. But on this night, when it starts to rise, it doesn't feel quite right). She wishes he could soak in the sun with her. Let him rise and fall with it, instead of staying motionless through it all. Korra's tired of staring at his blank face and not being able to see gold.

He hasn't woken up yet. Not even a fiddle of his fingers.

She's just about finished patching up a gash on his right shoulder, one that runs across from the tip of the bone to his clavicle. It was one of the nastier ones, but it's healed, and she feels slightly accomplished when she bends the healing water back into the basin that sits on the edge on the nightstand next to the bed.

Korra takes in a deep inhale of air, using the break to stretch out her sore limbs. She's moved out of the chair just as much as Mako's moved in the bed. When the knot in her back cracks, she peels her eyes open to glance at his still figure and frowns.

A cautious hand reaches for his bandaged chest, finding a home against the left side, where the new bruises and wounds cut profoundly into his already-marked skin. She leaves her hand pressed against his torso, leaning her abdomen against the side of the mattress until she can feel the familiar thump of his low, but still there heartbeat. Korra sighs in relief, even though she did the same gesture not thirty minutes ago. It was more noticeable in comparison to hours before, of course, but she didn't want to remember her quenched screams as she tried to get his nearly-lifeless body off of the pavement.

Her smile is shaky, her head leaning to the side slightly, as she lets her fingertips roam upward. They trace the sharp angles of his jaw (she was down and he was not, and he yelled for her to _move _and she wasn't fast enough to), to the odd shape of his eyebrows (he stepped right in front of her with fire blazing, but it wasn't hot enough to stop the oncoming attack), then falling down to press against his closed, chapped lips (he fell, hard, and the field extinguished with shocked silence).

"Has he woken up at all?" the sudden voice startles Korra out of her muses, and she retracts her wandering fingers, as if burned.

"What?" she turns abruptly in her seat to face the doorway and rubs at her eyes, trying to deflate the darks circles cascading underneath. She didn't need anyone seeing her weary state when Mako was unconscious right next to her. When she releases, she blinks a few times before Mako's younger brother comes into full sight. "Oh, hi Bolin. No, he's uh," she fumbles, possibly from exhaustion (but she knows that's not why), "he's still asleep. But his wounds are a lot better."

"I see," he mumbles, taking in the beaten form of his sibling. The bandages seem changed and he looks better, but his eyes are still closed. He's still hurt.

His broad jaw sets into an unsettling frown. "Can I talk to you outside?"

His posture tips Korra off, and her small, tired frame shrinks in the chair. This isn't a Bolin she's used to. She doesn't know how many more cruel changes she can handle, honestly. "I…okay." She allows herself one last look at Mako's sleeping form before following the already retreating earthbender out of the room. The hallway is empty, bare walls lit with overhung shaded lamps. The scenery isn't comforting in the least. Bolin closes the door to his brother's room gently as Korra places herself against the wall across from him.

"So what did you wanna talk about?" Korra asks uneasily. After a moment's pause, Bolin releases a staggering sigh, empty of feeling.

"I think Mako and I should go home."

"What?" she asks, flabbergasted. "What do you mean 'go home'? Mako can't be moved; he's in no shape to go anywhere!"

"Yeah, I know," Bolin said, coldly. "He would be just fine if he didn't throw his life away trying to protect you."

Korra recoiled, not used to the younger sibling's ferocity. Bolin was bubbly and upbeat, even in bad situations. He's never been anything but friendly toward her, even when she made a huge mistake and hurt his feelings months ago. "What is this about?"

She's reminded of how rocks rumble and crack during earthquakes when Bolin's emotionless façade becomes sheer, ruthless rage. "Mako threw his life away to save _you_! Mako, the only family I have left! The brother who raised me since I was six years old was nearly killed!"

Asami's chosen this moment to round the corner, easily spotting Bolin yelling at the Avatar. Her eyes widen at Korra's standstill posture, taking in each of the spouting, fierce words being thrown at her. Half of her wonders why Korra isn't putting up a fight. But Korra knows that this is no battle worth fighting. She's already lost.

"Guys, stop," Asami presses. "Mako doesn't need more on his plate when he wakes up."

"No, he doesn't," Bolin ignores Asami's obvious reconciliation, piercing glare not leaving Korra's shaking blue eyes.

"This wouldn't have happened if he didn't fall in love with you," he snaps. Korra's eyes widen at the mention of it, the subject still fragile. The entirety of it was – the air around them seemed so thick but so easily broken. "This wouldn't have happened if you didn't show up at the arena that night. We'd all be just _dandy_ if we _never met you_."

"Bolin, you don't mean that. Calm down," Asami tries to gently reason, placing a soothing hand on his broad shoulder and side-eyeing the Avatar who looked just about ready to fall apart; she knows that there's only so much the strong girl can take. Bolin shakes it off roughly, angrily, as if disgusted by the gesture.

"No!" He shouts, and she flinches backwards, retracting her hand to her chest. "My brother almost died today!" His attention whips back to Korra, who's nearly trembling in front of him. It goes unnoticed, or perhaps the earthbender's red outlook has masked over any possible concern he could possibly have for her, as he points an accusing finger in her direction. "And it's _your fault_, Korra! It's _your fault_!"

Her breath hitches, and her shaking form seems to freeze up, becoming rigid and ice cold. She tries to swallow back whatever's bundled up in her throat, whatever starved guilt's made its way upwards from her heart to choke her, but can barely breathe. She doesn't even notice the tears that have welled up under her blue irises. She doesn't hear Asami's chide call of Bolin's name, or how Bolin's fury wavers for a second when he gets a good look at the water tribe girl in front of him. All she knows is how small she feels, and how the numbness from her toes up to her throat won't go away.

Bolin shakes his head in dissatisfaction, closing his palms into angry fists. He turns his back to Korra before his resolve completely crumbles, slides the door open to where his brother slept and slams it shut behind him.

Asami cringes at the sound, but Korra stands stiff, still trying to keep in the tears she knows are bound to fall if she stays there any longer. The heiress notices her friend's misery, and she tries to reach out to her as a sign of relief. To know that everything would be okay in the end. But it wouldn't be. And Korra wished she didn't try anymore; she wished she slammed another door in her face and left her alone. She deserved it.

"Korra…" she's still trying to make peace, but the comforting gesture does nothing but bring more tears behind blue eyes. Whatever's caught in her throat is cutting off her need for oxygen and her limbs feel weak and she isn't sure if it's from the excessive healing she's done all day or the fact that she _is weak_.

Everything that's gone wrong in her friends' lives is from her own doing.

Bolin was right; this _is_ all her fault. All of it.

"No, it's fine, really," she steps back, hands stopping her from coming any closer, and the hurt look on the pretty girl's face nearly makes the tears spill over. She barely chokes out that Mako's bandages had to be changed in an hour before she's making her getaway, back to the securities of her room. Her brisk walk turns into a sprint when she hears Asami call after her, and she's barely closed the door before the first tear falls.

She honors that one to the boy who nearly gave his life away for someone as selfish and undeserving as her.

The second one that lands on the floor is for the boy's brother, for tearing the two siblings apart.

The back of her hand wipes away the tracks of bitterness, but they keep coming, slowly but surely. For the heiress who lost her father in the throes of revenge, but would at least still have a family if not for her.

Her heart clenches, each passing second tearing deeper into her withering chest, and it forces a sickening sob out of her. She tries to cover her mouth with her palm, but the movement only forces a choked gasp to escape her lungs. Whatever is stuck in her throat is forcing its way up and out of her, and it cracks harder on what little reserve she has left. It hurts to hold in. It hurts because she's too weak for it not to.

In the loneliness of her room, the dam breaks, and she counts each and every water droplet littering the floor.

She counts the tears for each life she's ruined.

Two for her parents, one for Katara, two for her cousins, one for Lin, one for Tenzin, one for Pema, four for the air children…

She lets her back hit against the door and she sinks onto the ground, clutching her calves and burying her face in between her knees. Massive sobs echo in the empty room, and her pants are already stained with salty tears.

She's lost count.


End file.
